I Won't Let You Go
by Yanagi Uxinta
Summary: Getting stabbed and electrocuted sucked. He'd do it all again for Blake - but that's the problem haunting her, isn't it? The Battle of Beacon hangs over both of them, and sometimes when you're at your most vulnerable you just need someone to understand, and to hold.


Hey all! I know, another RWBY fic. I'll get back to my other fandoms eventually, I promise XD This one was prompted by a comment left on Memories Hanging Over Me over on Tumblr, so you've got quietgirl556 to thank for your next dose of Blacksun/Eclipse/Wudonna angst-fluff. Hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: A nightmare depiction of non-con kissing and touching. Blood, injuries, trauma, PTSD. The middle section (between the two line breaks, providing they actually work this time, FF!) is the one to avoid if you want to miss that stuff.

* * *

What a difference getting stabbed made. Up until now Blake's dad had stuck him in a guest room on the opposite side of the house – wait, no, who was he kidding – the _mansion_ to Blake's room. He didn't know if he'd gone so far as to put a guard on his door, but he was damn certain there'd been at least one between his room and Blake's at all times during the night. Not that it would have made a difference. Blake...

Blake didn't need that kind of pressure. Not now, not here. And that wasn't why he was here. Sure, when he got on the boat he'd thought she was on a one-woman crusade against the White Fang and had stowed away to offer himself as backup, but even after she'd told him what she was doing he'd realised she still needed the support; just not the way he'd thought.

Well. Til he got _stabbed_ anyway.

At least it came with its perks. Blake had put her foot down and moved him into the room next to hers in case he needed anything during the night.

'I'll leave my door open,' she'd said, worried and earnest – his word, her expression, 'all you need to do is call me and I'll come through.'

'Hey, I'll be fine.' He'd waved her off with his tail since his shoulder was still complaining at him every time he moved. 'She hit my shoulder, not my leg. If I want a midnight snack I can grab it. I'm aaaaall good.'

That had made her smile at least. She'd still insisted.

Hey, he wasn't going to complain. He was respectful, not stupid.

So he found himself in a much nicer, much bigger bedroom, his arm in a sling so he didn't move it too much during the night. His old room had been great, it wasn't like they'd stuck him in a cupboard or anything, but... it had definitely been the guest wing.

Maybe it was the new room, maybe it was how soft the bed was, or how distracted he was by all the art on the walls, but he was still wide awake at three in the morning. The only plus he could find was that he could take his painkillers in fifteen minutes. The doctor they'd called out had said the chameleon girl's sword had missed the bundle of nerves in his shoulder, but the electric current had zapped them from the inside. So no major physical damage, but the pain had been so extreme his brain had noped out of there and knocked him out for at least half a minute.

And then he'd woken up to Blake, hands pressed against his shoulder and bloody to her wrists, sobbing over him and still screaming for help.

He'd felt like crap then, and it had nothing to do with the pain. He'd never meant to make her cry. She'd done enough of that already.

Wincing, he gingerly rolled over onto his good side. If he could just go to _sleep_ -

Of course, having her just a wall away was distracting. Not like that! Not... completely-

Dude, you're not Neptune, cut it out.

Besides, it _wasn't_ like that. He just... he wanted to talk more. She'd opened up so much lately, and he enjoyed it. He lo- he liked seeing her calm, and happy, and not having to hold things back. He wanted to see that more. He wanted to see her smile more, and maybe be the reason why she smiled.

God you've got it bad.

Not that that's a bad thing.

Even if she doesn't like you back?

He turned his head away from the ceiling, as if he could turn away from himself.

Even then. After everything she's been through, she deserves to be happy – no matter how or where or who with. Even if it wasn't him. Even if it hurt.

He sighed, breath warm against the white pillow. He lifted his head up carefully, trying not to jar his shoulder, and peered at the clock. Time for pills.

He sat up and reached for the box the doctor had left him, and paused, staring at the table. Clock, tablets, book...

Damn. No water.

He knew where the kitchen was. From his old room, anyway.

Eh, if he got lost he could ask a guard.

He was padding past Blake's door, squinting in the dim lamp light that was still bright enough to dazzle his night-adjusted eyes when he heard the whimper.

He paused, listening, wanting to believe he was hearing things but with a sinking certainty that he hadn't.

This one wasn't a whimper, it was just a gasp – sharp, shallow, like she couldn't catch her breath.

There were only two reasons he could think of that would make her make those kind of noises. The first one Blake would stab him herself if he stuck his head in and caught her at it, and- oh, great, that image was going to be stuck in his head now. Minus the stabbing. And probably involving him-

There was a soft whine, high-pitched, hitching- oh god if that was what he thought it was he should _not_ be out here listening-

' _No._ '

It was barely above a whisper, the first letter mumbled like she hadn't opened her mouth properly to say it. Like she was asleep.

Like it was a nightmare.

Please be right, please be right-

He peeked into her room, careful not to touch the door.

Blake was curled up on her side, facing the door, the light blankets twisted around her. She was shaking, her lip trembling, brows furrowed. Her expressions weren't fully formed, softened by sleep, but he knew fear when he saw it.

'Blake?' he whispered, slipping into the room.

She didn't stir, only shuddered, her arms twitching like they were trying to get free of the blankets but couldn't figure out how.

She's probably going to hit you.

So long as she doesn't get my shoulder, it'll be fine.

'Blake,' he said, a little louder, and leaned down to shake her awake.

* * *

The fire was everywhere.

The smoke was too thick; she could barely see a few feet around her.

 _Not here not again not again-_

He was here. She didn't know how she knew, but he was here, and he was dangerous.

'Blake!'

Yang?

'Blake, where _are_ you?'

This was wrong. It didn't happen like this; she shouldn't be here yet-

But there she was, golden hair blending into the glow of the flames.

Go, go, run, you have to run, he's here-

She couldn't speak.

'Blake!' Yang shouted, and started to run towards her through the flames.

The hair rose on the back of her neck, and she knew what was going to happen, she just didn't know _how_.

She couldn't speak, so she shook her head, waved her arm for Yang to get back, to _go._

'Blake, come _on_!' She was getting frustrated, and scared. She'd stopped, but was waiting for her to catch up.

Go. We can get out together, we can avoid this, it doesn't have to happen.

She took two trembling steps forward.

The world collapsed into red and black, and Yang staggered, her black silhouette shattering, scattering into dust.

No, no, _nonono-_

He was stalking towards her through the place Yang had been, the last of her golden hair crumbling in the air around him.

She couldn't move.

 _Adam_ , she tried to say. _Please, don't_ -

But she couldn't speak. Her mouth opened, her lips moved, but air rushed soundlessly through her teeth.

He was getting closer. There was blood on his sword.

Her blood. Her left side burst into what should have been agony, but it was distant and detached from her. Blood ran down her hip and leg, hot trails that stuck her leggings to her skin.

She should have screamed. She _was_ screaming, but it was all trapped in her head.

His sword was jutting from her side; he was using it to shove her backwards. She scrabbled at it, trying to pull it out, but his whole weight was behind it. She slammed into a wall that hadn't been there before, the sword wedged into the wood panelling behind her. Her feet dangled inches off the ground; suspended by the blade. She braced them back against the wall, trying to push herself up and stop the blade slicing through her.

He was too close, body pressing against hers. She was almost on his eye level now; she should have been able to see through the eye slits in his mask to his eyes behind, but they were nothing but black holes.

She hooked her fingers into his jacket, leaving bloody handprints that reflected the firelight.

His hand cupped her cheek, and where it touched it burned.

She yanked back with a whimper, but her head hit the wall. She could feel a blister rising, painless though it shouldn't be.

His hand followed, slid around to the back of her head. A cut opened in its wake, blood trickling down through her hair to soak into her scarf.

Stop. Stop, please-

His lips bruised. His hands left fresh cuts and burns wherever they touched; her face, her breasts, her thighs. His tongue left welts and tasted of smoke and ash and blood.

She couldn't breathe. She gasped, trying to find air, found only suffocation. She couldn't _breathe_ -

She tried to force air out instead, make some noise, _any_ noise to prove she could tell him to stop, that he was hurting her, to scream for help.

It was like there was rubber in her throat, blocking it both ways. Breathe, breathe, scream, _something_ -

Air slithered in, like there was a puncture in the barrier. She took it, held it, forced it out:

'No...' Too soft, too quiet, no one could hear her, _Adam_ wouldn't hear that over the roar and crackle of the flames that should have consumed them both by now.

His mouth was against her neck. Blood ran down her shoulder.

'Blake?'

That was wrong. That wasn't his voice, that...

This wasn't real.

She seized on that. You're asleep, you're dreaming, wake up, wake up-

She couldn't. Still paralysed, still trapped between a wall and Adam with a sword in her gut even though she _knew_ this hadn't happened.

'Blake.'

Sun. It was Sun. I'm here, help me, help me please, get me out-

She was shoving against Adam, trying to push him away, push him off, but her arms were caught, trapped- not by him; her _real_ arms; she was asleep, she was nearly awake, just move – something, anything-

Something grabbed her shoulder, too hard, too real, and she shoved her arms out, nails raking, to get it off, get away.

'Blake, Blake _wake up!'_

She took a huge, gulping gasp and opened her eyes.

Orange light danced on the wall, and she'd scrabbled back up against the head of her bed and pressed flat against the wall before she realised it was only the lamp in the hall, not the fires of Beacon.

Sun was sat on the edge of her bed, hands still raised from shaking her awake. Red welts stood up on his forearm. There was blood under her fingernails.

'Hey, hey, it's okay. You were asleep,' he said, his hand turning so he was holding it out to her, palm-up. Waiting to see if she'd take it.

She hesitantly reached out, then paused, looking down at her hands. Nothing. She rolled her sleeves up. Nothing. No blood, no burns. None on her legs – she flushed and tugged her kimono down, making sure she wasn't showing off more than she meant to.

Sun was watching, forehead creased, looking lost. 'Are you okay?' he asked. He'd dropped his hand while she checked herself over.

What if she couldn't speak?

Her heartrate had barely started to slow, but the thought made it speed up again.

Don't be an idiot. You're awake. Why wouldn't you be able to?

I'm scared.

So _try._ Get it over with.

'What are you doing in here?' she whispered, voice hoarse but _there_. She closed her eyes in relief. She sounded like she'd been screaming; or back in the burning dining hall. She cleared her throat, trying to ease it.

Sun rubbed the back of his head, glancing aside. 'I was going to get a drink so I could take my painkillers. I, uh, heard you. When I was walking past your room. Thought I'd make sure you weren't being chewed on by a beowolf or something.'

 _His teeth closed on her throat, leaving a ring of bloody marks._

She forced a smile. It felt fake even to her, and seeing how Sun's eyes narrowed it wasn't fooling him either.

She dropped it, shuffled down the bed so that her legs were back under the covers and she wasn't huddled on top of her pillow. She smoothed the covers out, pulling at tiny creases to try and make them iron smooth.

Sun sighed. 'Was it Beacon?'

Her hands stilled. 'What?'

'Your dream. Was it Beacon?'

His eyes were dark, hooded. He caught her looking and rolled them. 'Gimme _some_ credit, okay?'

'Sorry,' she whispered, then, 'yeah. It was. But... different.'

Sun drew one leg up onto the bed, resting his elbow on his bent knee. 'What happened?'

Don't make me say it. Not that.

She took a shaky breath, then another. Went for the smallest part of the truth. 'Yang died.'

'Oh.' His tail curled in tight against his body. She could see him looking for something more to say.

'Yeah,' she said, to try and dissuade him. 'I'm sorry I kept you up.' She waved her hand at the door, letting him go.

He stayed put. Of course he did. It was Sun.

'Hey, what're friends for, right?' He gave her once of his cheeky grins. He was better at false smiles than she was. Then he sobered, leaning forward, his eyes earnest. 'Are you sure you're okay? Not gonna lie, you... it looked pretty bad.'

Her throat felt full. Not blocked, not suffocating this time – just swollen with tears she didn't want him to see.

'I will be,' she said, which was closer to the truth. 'I promise,' she added when he didn't look fully convinced. 'I just... I need a minute.' She forced a smile and hoped the tears blurring her vision weren't visible. 'You should go and get your painkillers. I'm not going anywhere.' This time.

If he thought the same thing she had, he didn't say so. 'You'd better be,' he said, with mock suspicion. 'I'll be right back,' he said as he stood; his free hand in the pocket of the jogging pants he'd been sleeping in. He pulled the box of painkillers out and rattled them at her, before heading for the door.

She managed to keep the smile on her face long enough for him to vanish. She drew her knees up, pulled her pillow around so it was propped against them, and buried her face in it as the sting in her throat grew. Her shoulders shook, but she stayed silent until his quiet footsteps had faded away completely. Only then did she let herself drag in a harsh, messy breath; muffled by the pillow so no one but her could hear.

* * *

He found the kitchen without getting lost once. He could almost hear Scarlet complaining that his sense of direction hadn't kicked in earlier. Like on their way to the Vytal Festival. So he'd have got on _their_ ship instead of getting lost, realising he'd missed the boat, and having to stow away on the next one.

Whatever. He'd made it, they'd kicked ass at the Festival until-

Until.

He downed his pills with half a glass of water, stuck the glass on the drainer, then headed back out into the house.

He'd be lying if he said Beacon didn't still haunt him. He doubted anyone who'd been there hadn't woken up from a nightmare at some point in the months since. But for him all he did was startle awake, take a few minutes to remember where he was and that he was continents away from Vale, then he'd be able to go back to sleep... maybe with the help of a lamp light. Preferably one with a weird colour bulb, like blue or green. Orange was too close to the firelight from the burning buildings. White was too harsh; the light from the atlas ships overhead and the stadium where the nightmare had started. The dark was fighting on the Beacon Campus, wave after wave of enemies that never seemed to stop. It was the constant headcount as he'd guarded the retreating fighters to the evacuation point. It was being one of the few still fit to fight and defend even though he'd never been in a fight this long before and exhaustion would have had him on his knees if it weren't for the fear he was trying to deny so no one _else_ would see how scared he was. It was realising their heavy hitters were either gone or wounded, and that he was one of the best left standing.

And that if it had reached that point, his 'best' would never be enough. Because they hadn't kicked ass, not really. They'd been sloppy, and lucky, and the terrain had worked in their favour. He'd barely made it to the finals. He was only their best option because everyone else better than him had already given their all and had collapsed under the strain.

Yet what he'd gone through wasn't even a fraction of what Blake had. Yeah, they'd all suffered. It wasn't a competition, he knew that, but... it was hard not to think he didn't deserve to be so freaked out by it all, that he was weak for it, when she, and Yang, and so many others had gone through so much worse.

So he wanted to help. He may not know exactly what happened to them that night, beyond the obvious – Blake was stabbed, Yang lost her arm, and it had something to do with Blake being in the White Fang – but he'd been there during the chaos. He'd seen the death and destruction. He may not have been there during the worst of it, but he still knew what it was like to revisit it in his sleep. At least he'd had Neptune, Scarlet and Sage. They all understood, they'd all been through it too. Blake had no one, for months.

He could be there for her. He might say the wrong things, or act too much of a goof, but he could help her. He could try.

She was hugging her pillow when he got back, and she'd switched on the fairy lights strung around her room. He paused, staring, noticing it for the first time.

It was a kid's room. Fairy lights around the walls, white and purple furniture. Stickers on her wardrobe and chest of drawers. There were signs of Blake trying to make it more grown up since she'd got back: the toys were stuffed on top of her wardrobe, half out of sight. There were pale patches where the less resilient stickers had been peeled off. Her bedding was still purple, but it had elegant black embroidery on it. That looked like an adult's bed. Her sword was a new addition if he had to guess.

How old had she been when she left?

'Mom and Dad didn't want to change anything without asking me.'

She was watching him. Her lashes were clumped together, the whites of her eyes bloodshot. There were damp patches on the pillow.

'Blake-' What should he do? She wasn't a very huggy person, would that make her feel better or feel trapped?

'I was twelve,' she said softly, as if she hadn't heard him, 'and I was stupid, and naive, and I thought they were cowards when Dad stepped down. I thought they were giving up. I thought I was so mature back then, choosing to stay and fight while they ran home.'

He slowly approached the bed. 'They let you stay behind?' He _tried_ not to sound judgemental, but twelve? _Twelve_? Yeah, they couldn't have known what would happen, but she'd been a kid.

Her smile didn't reach her eyes, and her ears stayed pinned flat. 'Sienna convinced them to let me stay. She thought that I'd get scared and would want to follow them once I'd calmed down. They even stayed at the port for a week, waiting for me to change my mind and come home with them. I never did. I was so _angry_ , and Adam-'

Her voice hitched, and he sat down, awkwardly patting the lump of her foot under the cover. She didn't pull away, which was something.

'He was five years older than me; he'd only just turned eighteen when Sienna took over. He told me that I was brave for staying. That they'd look after me. That _he_ would look after me. I think he was as angry with Dad as I was. Sienna hoped I'd come to my senses and leave; she didn't like having kids in the White Fang. Adam wanted me to stay, and he knew exactly what to say. I liked being brave. I felt like the others respected me for me, not because I was the Belladonna's little girl. I wanted to step out of their shadow, and people praised me for it. So I stayed. Mom and Dad couldn't wait any longer, so they left.' Her smile was bitter this time. 'Sienna didn't like it, but she knew how to use it. She and Adam trained me. And I was good. When Adam was promoted, I went with him to Vale. I wasn't his second in command, not officially, but we were a team. People listened when I spoke. But... they changed. Adam changed. Taking what we needed, punishing those who deserved it wasn't enough anymore. There'd already been accidents in the past, but if you fight people get hurt. He told me that. He convinced me that's all they were; accidents.'

She looked down, and drew tighter into herself. 'At least, I convinced myself that he was telling the truth. I didn't like arguing, and I didn't want to think about what it would mean if he was lying. And if he was lying, they all were. People had been leaving the White Fang ever since Mom and Dad had, but in that last year they were haemorrhaging people. But it didn't matter, because they were finding new ones – people who wanted to hurt humanity, who enjoyed their tactics. So more and more of the people I was surrounded by bought into Sienna and Adam's beliefs. I felt like the odd one out, like I was wrong. I was only Ruby's age,' she said, shaking her head. 'When everyone around you is telling you that your doubts are wrong, you believe them. You believe them so badly that it hurts, because you _know_ deep down they're wrong, but you're so scared of what will happen if you say it. So you pretend. I stopped asking Adam what went wrong each time a human died on one of his missions. Maybe I shouldn't have, because he got worse after that. They weren't accidents or even self defence anymore. Not all of them. I think when I was on a mission with him he was more careful, at the start anyway. There was never a death I could point to and say 'that was on purpose'. All the other missions I only heard about second-hand. But over time even that changed. He must have thought I finally agreed with him, because he stopped hiding it. And that was when I knew I had to go.'

'That was when you went to Beacon,' Sun said slowly. It was always like this; piecing together all the things Blake had said, stitching together her story in the right order. Yet there was still so much she wasn't saying. She had a way of saying so little yet so much at the same time. The broad strokes, but never the fine detail. That you had to claw out of her – or accidentally push her to her breaking point so she yelled it at you, like this afternoon. But even then she spoke _around_ things – the chameleon girl 'wasn't even the worst'. Yeah, now he could guess that was this Adam – he hated the guy already – but she never said it. It was like she was scared to say too much, like if she did he'd appear out of thin air.

Then again, with her chameleon friend doing almost exactly that, he couldn't exactly blame her.

Or maybe it was less superstitious than that – black cat she may be, but it could have been she was more scared of what people would think. What her friends and family would think, if they knew everything. Blake was always focused on what people thought about her – not in a vain way, but so she could manage her expectations of them, maybe. Humans thought she was a monster, so what's the point in trying to change their minds? Let's live up to it instead. She didn't know how the other students would treat a Faunus, so let's pretend to be human – even to her own teammates. Oh, they found out she's a Faunus and used to be in a cult? Let's run away for a whole weekend because they _must_ hate her now. She was run through and severely traumatised during a terror attack that she feels partially responsible for, and entirely responsible for her friend losing an arm? _I hope they hate me for leaving._ Because in Blake's head, them seeing her as a coward and a deserter was the best way to keep them safe, so she'd _make_ them see her that way. Run away, no contact, just vanishing off the face of Remnant.

Living that way had to be exhausting.

Blake nodded, like she was agreeing with the thoughts in his head. She _looked_ exhausted. Maybe if they kept talking she'd fall asleep, and wouldn't dream again. 'To atone. I'd spent so long hating humanity, hurting them, the only way to make up for that was to dedicate my life to protecting them. It wouldn't erase all the hurt I'd caused, but... it had to count for something, right?'

She sure knew how to ask them. Nothing like discussing moral dilemmas at half three in the morning.

She spared him from answering; her gaze unfocussed, staring out at the foot of her bed. 'But look what happened. I know Cinder was the main reason behind the attack, but would he have helped if I hadn't been there? Would he have been as violent, as angry?'

Adam. It always came back to him, like she was trapped with him in her head.

'It doesn't matter.'

Her head jerked up and she stared at him, eyes wide. 'What?'

He shifted further onto the bed so he could face her fully. 'I said, it doesn't matter. If you were there or not, he still would have been, and from what I know about the guy he would still be just as bad. So stop blaming yourself for what _he_ did, ok? It's not fair, to you or to the people you push away because you feel guilty for things you're not responsible for.'

'I-' she choked up, closed her eyes, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from immediately backpedalling to make her feel better. She didn't need that. She needed someone to help her believe she wasn't to blame.

'That's not why I left you all behind, Sun.'

'I remember; you were scared we'd get hurt again.'

She shook her head, ears pinned. 'No, you don't get it. I wasn't scared because you might get hurt again – we were all students at Huntsman academies, getting hurt is a risk we take. I was scared because if I'd stayed, you _would_ get hurt. Because he promised-' she broke off, hunching her shoulders and hugging her knees.

Oh. This... crap.

'He?' he asked, trying to sound gentle.

She lifted her head, and this time the tears were already rolling down her cheeks instead of hiding in her eyes. 'A-Adam,' she said, like she had to force it out. 'Adam promised to destroy everything I loved. And then Yang found us, and-'

'He's the one that took her arm,' he said slowly, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. Shit.

She nodded. 'That's why I- I had to go. If I stayed, I was actively putting everyone I l- everyone I cared about in danger. I thought I'd be _safe_ here. But it's going to happen all over again. He's going after Haven, and I'm going to stop him, but at what cost, Sun? I lost my family for six years, I lost my team, I nearly lost you – what's going to happen next time? When is it going to be enough?'

'I don't know. But you know what I _do_ know?'

She shook her head, barely looking at him through her hair. He swung his tail around and gently nudged her chin, lifting it up.

She smiled, her hand closing over it to bring it down but then just... holding it in her lap, fingers running over the fur.

It had to be illegal for something to feel that good. It wasn't even kinky, it was just... _nice_. As comforting for him as it looked like it was for her.

Focus, genius.

'I know that this time, you're not going to be alone. And I know Yang was there last time, and she got hurt, but Beacon was a mess. We were all taken by surprise, everything was on fire and there were Grimm and mechs everywhere – but Haven's going to be different. This time _we'll_ be the ones ambushing _him_. And you won't just have me; you'll have your parents and everyone we can rally in Menagerie at your back. Just because you're going up against him doesn't mean there's got to be a cost, Blake.'

She ducked her head, but this time it was to hide a smile, not tears. 'I hope you're right.'

'Bet on it!' he said, giving her an exaggerated thumbs up since his tail was being held captive.

She giggled. It sounded small, tired, muzzy like tears were still threatening, but real. 'Thank you, Sun.'

He smiled. It felt like there was hot air inside his chest, warm and expanding out against his ribs whenever he looked at her and noticed another little detail. The way her ears had relaxed. How mussed her hair was; her bangs flicked to one side and half of them in a spiral pointing at the ceiling. The feel of her calluses through his fur, though her fingers were so gentle. 'Hey, it's what I'm here for.'

She shifted, tugging at the covers and shuffling towards him until she could rest her head on his good shoulder; his tail wrapped around her waist with the end still in her lap.

He was pretty sure he froze for a full five seconds before he was able to compute that Blake Belladonna was _snuggling_. With him. Voluntarily.

He slowly relaxed back against the wall, the cool plaster and paint a pleasant shock to his bare back in the warm air. He shifted slightly, wrapping his arm around her as well. She just settled more comfortably against his side and kept stroking his tail, silent, sweet, safe.

There were worse ways to fall asleep.

There were, however, far, _far_ better ways to wake up.

Ghira seemed to fill the entire room. Blake shifted, making a grumpy noise in her sleep, probably sensing how he'd frozen in utter terror but not awake enough to come to his rescue.

'Mr. Wukong, I hope you have an extremely good explanation for why you were sleeping in my daughter's bed.'


End file.
